Hit and Miss
by Dividing Line
Summary: As a hitwoman, she is a monster. As a small-time crime novelist, he is more than what he seems. When she is offered a quarter of a million to dispose of him, Rukia finds herself involved in more than a simple kill. Love was never so deadly. IchiRuki!
1. Prologue

**Oookay, prologue! This chapter is pretty much just a prologue letting you into what Rukia does, but it's not very specific... all will be revealed in the next chapter! You guys should know what I'm like by now... **

**Sorry for neglecting my other stories D: But this was too good an idea to just put aside and forget. I COULD ACTUALLY FINISH THIS! It's intended to be quite short, not much longer than 10 chapters. Rating may change due to Ichigo's potty mouth and manly desires.**

**Ichigo: Manly desires? You make me sound like a whore...  
Rukia: Who said you're not?  
Ichigo: Coming from you Ms. Seducer?  
Rukia: Ah, that reminds me, I have a bone to pick with you DL-  
DL: Uhhh... ON WITH THE STORY *Ducks from Rukia's mini fists of fury***

She slammed her foot down on the accelerator, her angry snarl muffled by the cigarette between her lips. Smooth, pale white hands slid across the steering wheel as she span it around to the right and slammed her foot on the brake, twisting the cherry red Jaguar into a fishtail spin. It quickly jerked to a stop before she shoved one leather boot back onto the accelerator, turning the wheel around to go straight back in the direction she had just come from. Sirens wailed softly in the distance and her lips turned down in displeasure as she took the cancer-stick from her mouth.

Stupid cops. Couldn't leave her the hell alone to take a freaking breather, could they?

She let out a gust of smoke to drift through the open window and stubbed the cigarette out on the ash tray carelessly, her other hand smoothly operating the automatic car. It purred beneath her hands, and she allowed herself a rare smile at the glorious beast of a car. Too bad she'd have to abandon it somewhere later. Ah well, stolen goods had to find a way back eventually. She'd find something better. Maybe aquire one legally someday.

Yeah, someday. A girl could dream.

Rukia ran a hand through her coal black hair, wrinkling her nose as she saw the flashing lights in her right wing mirror. How annoying, she'd only been slacking for a few minutes to have a ciggie and they'd gained on her. Then again, they were probably the best that the police had to offer in terms of driving as good as she. The Black decided she could play with them for a while yet, before she'd have to take them out and get on with her journey. With a new found resolve of fun, she jerked the car down into a quiet little side road. The most fun places to drive like a lunatic.

She then put her foot back down on the accelerator as she turned up the radio to blasting levels and undid the windows. Rukia pushed her sunglasses down onto her nose and grinned to herself. Swerving the car around one sharp corner, narrowly skimming past a lorry going in the other direction and then slipping on the brakes and drifting around the next bend on the dusty old roadwhile singing along to old-skool music was just the best. She could hear the cop sirens quickly diminishing and pouted a little. They'd probably had an altercation with the lorry. Prehaps they weren't so good afterall. Nevermind, atleast she had a decent start to find somewhere to ditch the car, nick a new one and head off. She'd gotten a little caught up with this 'game' and it had cost her time. A pity.

Eventually, after driving at ridiculous speeds for another half an hour, she stopped outside a pub. The easiest place to bait someone out of their car keys, it was her favorite type of hunting ground to go to. Rukia parked the Jaguar in the corner of the car park furthest away from the pub and other cars, checked her makeup in the mirror and then grabbed her handbag. It was small enough to be inconspicious, but large enough to carry all her essentials: being lipstick, a lighter, her ciggies and her purse containing her -fake- ID and passport and various currencies of cash. Lots of it, too. Then her "special" items: a few bags of icing sugar, self-reigniting candles and a small battery powered fan.

Rukia sashayed into the pub, before emerging 10 minutes later jingling a set of keys in her hand. In her opinion, lots of men needed to learn to think with their big head rather than their little one. The clicked the button and a silver toyota flashed it's lights in greeting. That would do the job. Before getting into the Toyota, however, she walked back over to her first car. Unlocking it, she took the icing sugar out of her bag and the fan. She haphazardly threw the icing sugar around it, covering every surface, before using the fan to blow it into the air so there was a cloud of white in the car. Finally, she undid one window slightly and lit a self-reigniting candle. Tossing it in the window, she hurried away from the cherry-red car and got into the silver one.

'Three, two, one..' Rukia counted mentally, waiting...

Then the car errupted in flames. The windows blew out, flames licking around the edges. The smell of sweet-smoke, almost like candyfloss was heavy in the air and she reversed backwards, spun the Toyota around and drove out the car park as quickly as the little estate car would go. She had an appointment to keep.

-o-o-o-

"You're late." She did not have time for idiots like Keigo Asano who couldn't even keep time. Rukia was sitting in a shady booth at the back of an old cafe, known more for it's less legal substances available there rather than it's tea or coffee. She spoke to the man hovering infront of the booth without even looking up from examining her violet nails, her tone bored. He sat down and she raised her head to look at him expectantly while twirling a few raven locks around her little finger. "Well?"

"You're not very polite to your customers, are you?" This drew a light-lipped frown out of the woman, but the brunette couldn't see if it met her eyes or not as they were covered by the dark sunglasses she had been wearing all day. It unnerved him even more to be unable to see her eyes.

The raven haired woman replied cooly. "Considering most of my clientele are people desperate enough to throw law to the wind and hire me rather than some nice, law-abiding worksman who'll do nothing but twiddle their thumbs, I don't consider manners to be protocol for the business I offer." The man cleared his throat, uncomfortable under her cool stare. Uneasy brown eyes met tinted plastic.

"You know of what I've already told you?" He asked, being careful not to say anything in their current surroundings. It was true that very few people other than drug dealers and the addicticted ventured into this shady spot, but you could never be too safe.

"Naturally. My contact did inform me of what you had asked." She nodded at him carefully, taking a sip of her coffee. She recoiled from the cup before delicately spitting the murky brown liquid into it with a quiet noise of disgust. Rukia shoved the grimy off-white cup away with a grimace. "What's your offer?"

This time it was the man's turn to grimace, feeling like a fool.

"One hundred lollipops." This was the codename that her 'contact', a derranged shopkeeper by the name of Mr Urahara had told him to use for the word 'thousand'. Apparently, if anyone was listening they wouldn't know what amount of money he was referring to that way.

Seeing the woman's full blown smirk, he realised it was probably a lie.

"I see my contact has been playing games again. But lets go with that terminology," She paused, as if considering it. "No."

The man looked startled. "That's enough, surely?"

"Na-ah. You must understand that I've got a sweetooth. I need plenty of 'lollipops'," she sneered the last word, her smirk gone but her voice no less mocking, "to keep my lifetyle sweet, you understand? That, and the materials I use are expensive. Only the best is at my disposal to achieve the best result, afterall," The smirk dropped into a flat line. "I am the best available."

The man infront of her started to feel sweat beading at his brow. He couldn't read her while she was wearing the sunglasses and it made him even more anxious. Yet he had been ordered to get her help and so with a shaky voice he spoke again.

"Two hundred." She tilted her head.

A small smile appeared on her face."Two-fifty?" It was a question, but her tone left no room for argument. He sighed quietly. He needed it done and seeing as the police were naturally out of the question, anything legal was out of the question and other people weren't up to the job. She was truly the best available; ruthlessly intelligent and brutal to match.

He realised immediately why his boss had told him to go to her with his proposal, and why he had told him that 'money was no object'. He had been introduced to her contact through a friend of his who had wanted a man dead after he attacked his wife. The sadistic woman had tortured him for seven days straight, exactly as her client had requested. She was expensive, yes; but it was worth paying the money to know she had dealt with everything so thoroughly it would never be traced. She did not make 'mistakes'. She did not feel 'emotions'. She had worms in so many high places that by law she didn't even exist. In other words, the woman was the perfect killer.

So yes, he could understand why she asked for a quater of a million to knock off a simple small-time crime writer who was currently in the public eye. On the other hand, what he couldn't grasp was why his boss was so desperate to have him put out and why he couldn't do it through his own men. He was only a writer, right?

"Deal."

They shook hands, and it was done.

**Thanks for reading; please do review? I'd love to hear any improvements or ideas!**

**-DL.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Aha, chapter one is UP! Again, not a huuuge lot going on here... yet. **

**R&R? It makes my day to get that little notification... *teary eyes*.**

**Rukia: You're being pathetic. Cut it out.  
DL: Shut uuuup! You're so mean! I don't know why I make you so cool! I should make you a jerk!  
Ichigo: What's this about a jerk?  
Rukia: DL was just saying you're an asshole, that's all. *innocent smile.*  
Ichigo: DL... I AM NOT AN AS-  
DL: *Nervously slaps a hand over Ichigo's mouth* Ahahah, that's enough now! Umm, on with the story... Ichigo, go back to your writing.  
Ichigo: Psht, says you... *walks off, grumbling.***

Rukia inspected the briefcase full of cash while sitting in 'her' silver Toyota with Asano sitting nervously in the passenger seat. She could smell the axiety and sweat coming off of him in waves, wrinkling her nose at it. What a pathetic excuse for a man he was. That, and he could use a shower when he got home. She nodded her head absentmindedly as she critically analysed each pile of cash, going through the notes before finally, looking up to affirm it.

"Thank you, Mr. Asano. I take it that will be all? Or does your master have any special requests?" Keigo jolted at the word 'master'. How had she figured out it wasn't him? The raven hairedwoman arched an eyebrow, having read the question plainly from his expression.

"Ahh, Keigo. You didn't honestly think that I would consider a man as terrified as yourself to be the true person asking, do you? You sit, shaking and sweating infront of a woman who is unarmed, even while we were in a public place. You emate fear. Anypne that hires me is not afraid of going against the law, and you are terrified of it." She finished her monologue, her face dropping into a neutral expression. "So I'm guessing this is for Aizen?"

At that moment, Keigo's balls could have caught on fire and he wouldn't have been able to feel it over his racing heart. Rukia let out a short, sharp laugh at his rabbit-in-headlights expression. She did love rabbits...

"Oh deary me, Mr Asano. That was just a guess of mine, but you gave yourself away immediately. No worries, I won't tell Sousuke, but you may want to brush up a little on your acting skills." She laughed again as she moved the briefcase into the back of the car, pushing it between the two front seats. She never put things in the boot. It was the first place that police, robbers; anyone would look. Not to mention it was difficult to get anything out of if you had to quickly abandon the car and run. Money wasn't something you could afford to lose in a job like hers.

The brunettte man saw this as his que to leave, and quietly murmured "Thank you." Rukia let one of her few, genuine smiles show, but it was halfway between a smirk.

"No, Mr Asano. Thank _you_."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Rukia slipped the handbrake on the Toyota and felt it jolt to a stop in a car park outside a large, normal looking building. She would miss that Jaguar; it was such a nice drive, but atleast this car was, lets say, less eye-catching. She had to be inconspicious, seeing as she'd already have a little drive-in with the police earlier. Not that it hadn't been fun. Of course it had.

She got out of the car and removed the large briefcase before locking the vehicle with a quick jab of a button on the key. The young woman then turned on her heel and walked into the apartment block.

Rukia waved a hand in greeting to the red-headed girl at the desk, who waved enthusiastically back. Chizuru never failed to suprise Rukia with how energetic she was... and how creepily perverted she was. Any excuse to lunge over that desk at Rukia was taken. Always.

She headed up in the lift to the second floor before stepping out onto the plush blue carpet of the hallway. This was a very nice apartment in a decent area of London, Limehouse, right on the river. It was expensive too, but she'd pulled a few strings for her ID. With the amount of money she got per job, it wasn't like she couldn't afford 7,000 a month. Especially as it was right on the river Thames, overlooking the water. The views were gorgeous in the evenings.

She unlocked her key-and-password door, before walking inside, greeted by the smell of cherry blossoms. It was her favorite air freshner; and her brother's. She always tried to keep a little sentiment of each member of her family, seeing as they couldn't meet any more. Her job was a tough thing and never did she want to see Byakuya or Hisana held hostage by some crazed freak due to what she did. Rukia took off her shoes and wandered through into the living room where she ditched the briefcase, then over to the glass doors and onto the balcony. There she sat on one of the little metal chairs at the table and whipped out her cellphone. Slender, pale fingers danced over the keys before she brought the phone to her ear.

"Hanataro," Rukia said quietly down the line in greeting.

"Ah- Miss Rukia!" The man on the other line stuttered. Rukia felt endearment tug at her. Hanataro was one of the few people she was able to trust, and had known him since it all began. "What can I do for you today?"

"One, stop calling me 'Miss'. I've known you for seven years, Hana." She let out a soft peal of laughter. "Secondly, Ichigo Kurosaki. I want everything there is to know about him."

"Isn't that the new book writer that's just released a crime novel called 'Central 46'?" Hanataro was always so up to date. You could mention Joe Smith and he'd know exactly what one of the hundreds you were talking about.

"That's the one, Hana."

The man sounded enthused. "His books are good, you should try one Mi-.. I mean, Rukia." The raven beauty rolled her violet eyes. Trust Hanataro to know him via his books rather than the public press. Then again, seeing as his job was to get every bit of information possible, she supposed that he would enjoy reading. Silly to read crime novels though when he was a investigator with the police; surely he had enough of reading about people murdering eachother on a day-to-day basis?

"Whatever you say Hana. Get the information to me whenever you can."

"O-of course Rukia." They said their goodbyes and Rukia ended the call. Next one. Again, she dialed in yet another number she had memorized.

"Urahara..?"

The man on the other side responded as cheerfully as ever. "Rukia-chan!"

Ever since he'd found out she was spoke Japansese and had family in Japan, he'd taken it onto himself to call her by that honorific. She did try explaining that she'd never actually lived there and just knew the language, but it was to no avail. "How can I help you today?"

"My usual basic order." She smiled, though a vein in her forehead was ticking at the use of that silly honorific. "I'm running low again."

"Aaah, so that would be five candlesticks, two bricks and the chips to go with them, a pez dispenser of your choice, four cans of beans, two tubs of butter and a telephone cord?

"Mm, I'll have two Chappy dispensers this time, please." The usual codewords, so in other words, five sticks of C4, two Nokia brick phones and a couple of SIMcards that she could dispose of easily, twin UZI's that she'd chosen, four tear gas cans (you could never be too sure) two butterly knives and a wire choke. Her usual essentials for any 'seek and destroy' mission.

Not that she had any intention of going after her target yet, but she liked to have these things handy for infiltrating places to gain any information Hanataro couldn't. Rukia was always very thorough; which was why she was the best out there. In her opinion, if you planned carefully enough and had enough backup plans, you could do a job efficiently and in good time. Only fools rushed such things and ended up getting killed, or worse, caught. Yes, getting caught was a hell of a lot worse than death.

Not that she'd ever gotten caught, of course.

"It'll be in the lobby later this afternoon! Thank you Rukia-chan!" The line went dead before she could yell at him. Stupid Urahara.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Later, Rukia was sitting on her white leather couch before her phone started to ring. Groaning, she hefted herself up from the comfortable seat before answering it. Chizuru excitedly babbled down the phone that there was a delivery for her waiting. She arched her perfectly shaped eyebrows at how quick Urahara was. It never ceased to amaze her. She quickly replied that she'd be down in a minute before hanging up the phone. Rukia then donned her white bunny slippers and grabbed her purse before wandering out the apartment and down the stairs to the lobby. She couldn't be bothered to wait for the elevator. Usually, a delivery would be brought up to the person's apartment, but Rukia had specifically instructed Chizuru to never, ever bring something up to her door and to always tell her when something arrived. It was probably being over-cautious, yes; but she didn't want a bomb going off outside her door and blowing her to smithereens nonetheless.

She absently rubbed the sleeves of her purple bunny pajamas against eachother as she walked down, smiling at Tessai, the usual deliveryman from Urahara's shop. That was literally what it was called. He was an odd man, to be sure.

"Hello Miss Rukia. Your order is here, complete. If you are dissatisfied with any items, please ring Mr Urahara immediately." She rolled her eyes at how formal the burly man always was. He could be as rude as he wanted and nobody would go against it; who wanted to pick a fight with a guy who was about 7ft tall and built like a brick wall?

"Thank you Tessai." She picked up the note on top with the price and nodded. She then rummaged in her purse and started flipping out fifty-pound notes at a speed quick enough for Chizuru to be unable to identify what notes they were and handed them over to the tall man. "Oh, and for Ururu and Jinta." She dolled out another two twenties. They were sweet kids, putting up with a mental family like Urahara and Yoruichi, not to mention Tessai's 'special remedies' for everything. The man nodded and cracked a tiny smile.

"I'll get them to call on Urahara's phone and say thank you, Miss Rukia." The petite woman waved her hand dissmissively.

"Don't worry about it Tessai. They'll know it's from me by now." Hell, she sent them it every two weeks when she got an order from the shop.

"Okay. Thank you Miss Rukia." The man nodded and left, leaving Rukia with the fortnightly 'Pandora's box of lesbian dreeeaaammss!' as Chizuru liked to call it. If only she knew. Rukia picked up the box, shouted a quick 'thanks!' to the glasses wearing girl at the front desk and headed back upstairs to her apartment.

**This is soooo going to end up longer than ten chapters. I know it. I can feel it in my bones! **

**Okay, enough nonsense. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 2

**ROAR, I'M BACK! Did you miss me? Oh. Okay. I see how it is. D:  
Anyhow, this is a VERY VERY VERY SHORT Ichigo-centric chapter because we haven't exactly seen a lot of him yet. It's not exactly light hearted :P. If you guys have any questions about what happens or anything previous, don't hesitate to ask in a review :P **

**Ichigo: Stop begging for reviews.  
Rukia: Stop being ugly then.  
Ichigo: Ugly? You weren't complaining in the later chapters when they were being written...  
Rukia: *Goes red* SHUT UP!  
Ichigo: And get back in the bedroom?  
DL: THAT. IS. ENOUGH! STOP SPOILING EVERYTHING. ICHIGO, GET HERE. RUKIA, GO DO YOUR THING.  
Ichigo & Rukia: SIR, YES SIR! *Salutes*  
DL: Ugh... On with the chapter!**

"KU-RO-SA-KI!"

_Ah. Ishida. _

Ishida, the currently-working man's publisher and general ass-kicker was here. In his office. Right now. Slowly, the orange-haired male spun his swivel-chair around to face the angry owner of Quincy Publishing Corporation with baited breath. _Thwack!_

The heavy British Encyclopedia hit the wall just to the side of Ichigo's head like a ton of bricks.

"Uryuu, are you trying to give me brain damage?" Uryuu simply pushed hs glasses up his nose with his middle finger and pressed his lips together.

"If you had a brain to damage Kurosaki, that would be the case. Seeing as you don't, my answer is no." Ichigo sank further down in his chair with a quiet groan that his paler counterpart ignored. "And it's Ishida. I am not your friend. I am your publisher." Said man pushed his long black bangs away from his face, tucking one behind his ear.

"I gathered that, because not many of my friends tend to attack me with encyclopedias." The pair had a curious relationship; Uryuu Ishida was indeed the man that had published Ichigo's most recent novel 'Through The Window' and was currently doing so for his sequel book 'City Of Souls'. On the other hand, he had also known Ichigo since highschool and the pair had maintained a firm frenenemy status throughout the school years which only strengthened with time. Still, they liked to deny they were close. It was probably a man thing.

"Nonetheless, have you finally finished with chapter thirty two?" Ichigo snorted before spinning around in his chair to face his desk once again. "Kurosaki, I mean it! I need to get it to Arisiwa for checking and-" He was cut off by a flurry of papers covered in neat black print being shoved under his nose.

"Done." Uryuu frowned slightly. He didn't quite like this new, collected and determined Ichigo. Ever since he had thrown in the towel in his previous job, which he still refused to reveal the details of, Ichigo had become a machine. The black-haired man could still recall when his friend had rung him up one morning and asked if he would agree to be his publisher for a book he was writing if he liked it. Naturally, Uryuu had agreed to his bizzare request and thus Through The Window had been born and caused an uproar with the media when it became a hot best-seller almost immediately. They were currently working on the sequel and still, Ichigo was churning out work like a man possessed. The dark cirlces under his eyes told Uryuu that Ichigo had no doubt been working around the clock for quite some time already. He needed rest, but he was an adult now. If he wanted to burn the candle at both ends, it would be his fault when he got burned. It wasn't Uryuu's place to play mother to his friend, but...

He hadn't seen him look this tired since the day he was dishonourably discharged from the Karakura PD. Before that he had been a stubborn, sometimes loud and brave man who wore his heart on his sleeve and would put his life down for even a stranger without question. After he was kicked off the police force, he grew considerably colder; a scowl had become a permanent fixture on his face and his gaze was no longer descriptive but cool and calculating. Then he had stopped doing whatever he had been doing since and had retreated even more into himself. That had been three years ago. It was disturbing to watch his dark behaviour progress. Even Orihime, Uryuu's chipper and bubby wife had once commented Ichigo had 'lost his inner fire' and for once, he couldn't agree more with her.

Ichigo had changed and not for the better.

"Are you finished now Ishida, or are you going to continue staring at my wall?" Said man snapped out of his trail of thought immediately.

"Yes. You need to sleep Ichigo," Uryuu couldn't help but espress his concern. "You look like a train wreck. Sort yourself out," And naturally, hide that concern with an insult. "We can't have your work getting sloppy." While finally giving it a crappy reason. Uryuu then neatly shuffled the papers together and exited Ichigo's office without a word of goodbye.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Ichigo let out a sigh of relief once the door closed behind his raven-haired friend. It was difficult to keep the act up around Uryuu, seeing as he was the one person Ichigo feared would eventually see past the mask. He was not a stupid man and it would be reckless for Ichigo to treat him as such.

Besides, it wouldn't be too long now. He had, unbeknownst to Uryuu, finished the second book and was already a decent way through the third. It was urgent that he finished it soon so he could get the fourth and final book done before someone realised what he was doing, if they hadn't done so already. He had to atleast get it done in draft; he knew Uryuu would publish it for him if he were to dissapear. Ichigo had a feeling there wasn't much time left for him now; afterall, they had probably already sent someone out after him. It was only a matter of time before they found him.

Found him and then slaughtered him for daring to oppose them.

Afterall, trying to expose a highly respected Chief Superintentant who was working with gang-related criminals was possibly a rather stupid thing to do.

**You have no idea, Ichi. Really. Any guesses as to who this Chief Superintendant is? What job was he doing between leaving the police and becoming a writer? What on earth has writing books got to do with anything? Why does he care so much as to risk his life? **

**I KNOW THE ANSWERS, HAH! **

**Sadly you'll have to wait, so 'till next time everyone!**

**Kudos and cookies! -DL **


End file.
